


Art Kids

by sirjotahan



Category: Jjba - Fandom, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Artist Kakyoin Noriaki, Canon Compliant, Established Kishibe Rohan/Kujo Jotaro, Established Relationship, F/M, Kujo Jotaro Smokes, Kujo Jotaro is Bad at Feelings, M/M, jotahan - Freeform, jotakak - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-01
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:34:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,128
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25647391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sirjotahan/pseuds/sirjotahan
Summary: jotaro kujo has a type
Relationships: Kakyoin Noriaki & Kujo Jotaro, Kakyoin Noriaki/Kujo Jotaro, Kishibe Rohan & Kujo Jotaro, Kishibe Rohan/Kujo Jotaro, Kujo Jotaro & Kujo Jotaro's Wife, Kujo Jotaro/Kujo Jotaro's Wife
Comments: 4
Kudos: 47





	Art Kids

**Author's Note:**

> yo! i'm nate! you can contact me @ mr jersterr#3052 on discord!!

Jotaro had never been one to fall in love easily. He had truly loved very few people his entire life, but, it was clear he had a type.

"Jojo?"

"Hm?"

"Could you stay still, please? You look phenomenal in this lighting."

There was a sound of scribbling as Jotaro turned his eyes to Kakyoin, careful not to move anything else. The boy's gaze was trained on the paper, occasionally flicking up to Jotaro to sketch down his likeness. As he looked up, he caught Jotaro’s gaze and sent a smile his way before returning to his pencil. The look in his eyes and the smile on his lips brought a redness to Jotaro’s cheeks and he hoped that wasn't too noticeable.

The Egyptian heat blared down on them, causing beads of sweat to sit on their foreheads, glistening in the sun. From Noriaki’s perspective, the light shone down just right on Jotaro, accentuating the sharp edges of his face, complimenting his ocean blue eyes. It was a beautiful sight, he simply had to capture it on a paper. To Jotaro, the sun shone down on Kakyoin, illuminating him fully. Every inch of him seemed to glow before his eyes. His lips parted somewhat, his tongue peeking out ever so slightly, as he focused on the scratching of his pencil. Jotaro couldn’t help but respect him heavily. There was so much talent within him that was extremely admirable. From the control and power of his stand to the knowledge he contained, both stemming from the amount of time he spent alone. 

“You moved.”

A sudden statement pulled Jotaro from his thoughts. He looked to Kakyoin, no longer lost in his mind. 

“Huh- sorry.”

He turned back to how he was sat before and heard a satisfied hum before scribbling continued. This continued for a few more moments. It was comfortable. They were far enough away from the hustle and bustle of Cairo to have the commotion as simply white noise. While they weren’t completely alone, they still had their privacy. It was nice.

Once they returned to their shared hotel room that night, Kakyoin had presented the drawing to Jotaro. Sat on the edges of their respective beds, they discussed the artwork between themselves. Jotaro studied the image. It was clearly him, but the proportions were pushed and pulled in certain areas. The portrayal wasn’t realistic but spoke louder than any picture or painted portrait could. It showed how Kakyoin saw him. There was something that Jotaro couldn’t put his finger on, though it was flattering. 

“It’s good. Really good,” he hummed, passing the paper back carefully as to not crinkle it. A smile grew on the other’s lips as he thanked him, showing his gratefulness for the praise. Kakyoin slid the drawing carefully into his notebook once more to preserve it. 

Time passed fast. Unfortunately fast. If Jotaro had the chance to rewind time rather than stop it, he would. He would rewind in a heartbeat to be there for Kakyoin. If he couldn’t save him, he’d at least want to be there for him in his last moments. However, that was not how it had played out. Noriaki Kakyoin had died before Jotaro could begin to tell him how he felt. Because of that, he promised never to let his feelings lie dormant until it was too late again.

This had been the sad downfall of his marriage. He wasn’t yet well versed in the language of love. They went too fast with too little. A having a child came far too soon in Jotaro’s eyes and is what he chalked everything up to. Yes, he adored and loved his daughter, but he just hadn’t been ready. They didn’t fully understand each other and their individual desires. They just didn’t work, their divorce was not surprising to either of them. Jotaro was a puzzle piece and he just couldn’t find his matching half.

It would not come overnight, or easily. Instead, it would take a flight to Morioh, and tracking down a serial killer to find the one that completed him.

* * *

  
  


“Hold still.”

The voice was commanding, yet special. Loveable. The voice belonged to someone who knew what he wanted and knew that he was going to get it. Jotaro liked that.

“Huh?”

“Stay still, Jotaro, you look phenomenal in this lighting. I need to capture it,” Rohan huffed, putting pen to paper before Jotaro could move. The air was clear and light, the only noise was of the scrawling of a fountain pen and soft breathing. The sun shone down on Rohan’s porch in the most wonderful way. Morioh was not hot, nor was it cold. It was just the perfect middle. Everything felt just right and memories flooded back to Jotaro. 

  
  


_ “Jojo, do you draw?” _

_ “Uh, no. Why?” _

_ “Star Platinum is so precise and captured that fly perfectly. I figured, maybe you could draw too.” _

_ “I definitely don’t draw.” _

_ “Would you like to?” _

_ “Huh?” _

_ “Would you like me to teach you? It’ll be fun!” _

_ “Uh- sure.” _

Jotaro had yet to even finish the thought when Rohan announced that he could move again. He turned to the mangaka and was presented with his own face. Rohan had captured his likeness on paper perfectly. There wasn’t much room for stylisation or feeling, but there was care put into every line. Every stroke was constructed with a specific thought in mind. He blinked slowly at it, making sure to take in every detail, committing it to memory as to never forget it. 

“It’s good. Really good.”

The corners of Rohan’s lips lifted and he hummed, “I know.” He brought the paper down the table again, smoothing out the edges carefully. A silence fell over them. Morioh was a quiet town. There was no hustle and bustle. No commotion. It was just them. Just them, and Jotaro’s promise.

“I love you,” he said.

“I know.”

Rohan looked up to Jotaro, the smile on his face widening. He was always like this. Confident and honest. It was endearing to Jotaro.

“I love you too,” Rohan added, reaching a soft yet overworked hand over the table to place over the top of Jotaro’s which were currently reaching for his third cigarette this morning.

As their eyes met, Rohan’s sharp green eyes bored into his soul. To a stranger, they were cold, cutting, and uncaring. In truth, they held intelligence. They analysed anything in sight within seconds. Rohan knew this too; he wasn’t afraid to admit it. He wasn’t humble. He knew himself and what he was good at.

People that were unapologetically themselves. People that cared. People that shone with a rarity only known in emeralds. People that… drew. Those were the very few people he loved.

That, was Jotaro’s type.


End file.
